If I could jump that high...would I ever find the ground again?

Is it bad to jump that high into the sky of nostalgia? To let yourself slip away and put your head into the clouds? Will those clouds of nostalgia turn you against your peers who don't see the vision? The vision of a children's playground for you to jump around to your heart's content? Planting yourself on a little conveyor and riding on it like a first-person roller coaster? Pretending to pet the non-threatening round green birds that chirp "kiwi!" if you dare to shoot them?

I wish I could jump like Robbit, I wish I could shoot lasers like Robbit, and I wish I could make funny noises whenever I took a step forward like Robbit. Why is life such a bore? Why can't it be just playgrounds and rainbows? Why can I not be just like my hero Robbit? Fighting funny evil men with funny palm tree jellyfish henchmen.

Was it my mom's fault that she bought me this during a time where I got nothing for a majority of the year due to being a poor December baby? Is she to blame for this mess? My poisonous care for a simple video game that I had played too much? The rare time where I can attach my mom to a game instead of my gamer dad? My yearning for days that I didn't need to care about getting up for work in the morning? When I didn't have a constant worry for the struggles of others? Is it truly bad for me? To just make me forget, and make me care only about smiling and struggling to hold back my emotions? To just, feel once more?

Is it bad for me to feel like a kid again? For just one hour?

Why must life be so grounded...?

Let's go Robbit, let's jump and go...for old times' sake once more....

To be honest, I didn't exactly come in with my arms wide open. The fears of a formally continuist sequel of something that was very expressive because its own peculiar use of its forms increased shortly after starting. A setting to choose how long you want the day to be, collectibles around the map, a character that tells you where to see the events of each day, afraid of giving you back freedom in a larger world, overall details that seem treated with less care and a feeling of experiencing the same but worse. It's a shame that every time the game tries to awkwardly recall the intentions of its predecessor, it pales considerably (one clear instance: the previously essential narrator is now dispensable in the few arbitrary moments it appears).

Luckily, it takes just a few days to see that the direction taken is right. The facts that the protagonist's father never appears, that the plot of the future sibling remains in the background, or that the reminiscing aspect of the tale is anecdotic are no coincidence. The form, weighed down by losing part of its meaning, becomes a perfect vehicle to explore a more passive exploration of the surrounding drama.

Here Boku does not so much embody a reflexive portrait of childhood and growth, as he is more a supporting device for the rest of the cast. Accordingly, the most dramatically charged plots revolve less around Boku's family and more around the neighbors and visitors. These take advantage of the kid's innocent and outsider approach to deal with a common yet always specific issue: yearn. Yearn because of the distance between mother and daughter, between father and son, between lovers, between Earth and outer space, between past and present and future, between the world of humans and the one that is not ours, between life and what lies beyond. And the fears that all of these yearnings may never be answered.

That most of the conflicts end up in an open ended bittersweet quiet note resonates with the setting of the small coastal village. A place to get away from and to be taken away from the world. The ever-present sound of the waves, which inevitably move these desires in the tide just as the moon changes phase in the last shot of each day.

It’s not that Boku's appearance solves all these yearnings, but his mere interest in observing the world around him and serving as a confessional escape mechanism at least alleviates the pain. The game takes a passive stance where listening to one another is the greatest act of kindness, where what little evil appears to exist in the world has nothing but a noble and melancholic origin. Who knows what the future may hold, what to do but to hope for the best and reach for our hands within the tide.